


Storm Coast Shenanigans

by Lorena_Shepard



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Almost Kiss, Attraction, Cute, M/M, Sweet, TrevelyanIsAKlutz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorena_Shepard/pseuds/Lorena_Shepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking for Warden traces, Dorian and Trevelyan talk and wait for one another to make a move...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Coast Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> Short, sweet, to the point. Hope you enjoy, I would like to write more for these two, they're just adorable.

The four men walked along the roaring beach in the customary rain of the Storm Coast. Leo tried not to smirk at Dorian, whose baleful stare at the sea conjured up all kinds of hopeful and steamy feelings quite at odds with the cold rain.

  
“What’s the matter, Dorian?” Leo asked, playfully nudging the mage.

  
“Can we get away from the water? I’m feeling seasick already.” He grumbled. Leo sighed theatrically, throwing a wink at the mage and steered the group away from the sea, heading into the hills of the coast.  
“Bloody Waking Sea. Never been more sick then when I crossed that.” Dorian mused, shaking his head.

  
“Well, lucky for you, we have other plans today.” He clapped Dorian gently on the back, telling himself it was a friendly gesture. Something that friends did all the time. Completely innocent.  
“Both Blackwall and Leliana seem to think that the Grey Wardens passed through here. So, we’re going to split into pairs and look for signs they did.”

  
If Dorian’s head snapped towards him in interest, he pretended not to notice.

  
“Hey, Blackwall! Bull!” he hollered over his shoulder at the odd pair behind him, discussing the various methods of hacking limbs off of something or another. Both men perked up at his shout. “You two search east for Warden signs, we’ll search west. An hour?”

  
They nodded and turned east towards the coast, returning to their conversation in earnest. Leo turned back to Dorian, whose eyes bore knowingly into his. He felt a hot blush creep up his neck and the overwhelming urge to readjust the tightness in his trousers.  
“Well, now. Here we are, Inquisitor. All alone, it seems.” Dorian’s hazel eyes shone with mirth.

  
“Was I that transparent?”

  
“Don’t worry,” Dorian murmured, stepping close enough to make Leo’s mouth run dry and his heart race. “I won’t tell.”

  
Just as quickly, he strode away making some comment about the weather. Leo took the moment to catch his breath and, this time, to actually readjust himself. They walked in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sea air, the scent of pine, and exchanging hopeful, but uncertain smiles.

  
“You know we’re actually related, Inquisitor?” Dorian said nonchalantly, toying with a sprig of Elfroot beneath a pine. Leo nearly choked.

  
“Related?” he asked, his voice betraying his shock.

  
“Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine?” he cast a sidelong glance at Leo, who relaxed when Dorian smiled. “You’re a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course.” They stumbled on an old campsite, the tents ripped and worn from the elements, an old pot slung over a fire pit long extinguished, and sheets of sodden paper littered the ground. Leo knelt and began to sort through the mess, hoping to find a hint as to where the Wardens had gone.

  
“You know that off the top of your head?” he asked.

  
“Not the top. Maybe the lower middle or thereabouts.” Leo’s eyes, of their own accord, flickered to Dorian’s lower middle and lingered just a second too long. Swiftly, he glanced at Dorian’s face only to find him smirking with raised eyebrows. Leo flushed darkly and occupied himself in his search for…whatever they were searching for.

  
“Anyhow, bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You’re taught lessons and tested…by strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through the old mnemonics. But yes-there it is. I knew there was a reason we looked so much alike.”

  
“I’d rather we weren’t related. That might make flirting awkward.” Leo teased, digging a journal out from under a soaked portion of the tent.

  
“Depends on which branch of the family you come from. “ He offered Leo a hand, helping him to his feet. The simple touch had the Inquisitor’s chest nearly convulsing with joy. “Regardless, I think we’re still good to go-by at least three ages.” Dorian winked.

  
“Well, that’s a relief.” Maker, he wanted to seize this man and taste the rain on his lips. To hold him close in the chilling rain. Too soon. He told himself. You don’t know. He looked at the sun instead. “We should be getting back to meet Blackwall and Bull. But tell me about these ‘strict nannies’” of yours.”

  
Dorian laughed and told him about his childhood instructors, shaking his head as Leo practiced his balancing act on every fallen tree they passed. Another fallen tree was perched precariously on the hill where they were to meet Blackwall and Bull. Predictably, Leo leapt onto the base of the white pine, sidestepping the branches that had not yet been stripped off by local wildlife. Dorian stood near the bottom, hands on his hips.

  
“Inquisitor, if you so much as break a nail, Cassandra will have my lovely scalp as a trophy.” Dorian huffed. “And I am simply too young to be scalped, so for the sake of my vanity please come down.”

  
“Oh, but I’m having such fun up here!” He was near the top of the hill, probably ten feet off the ground, and was tempted to climb the last several feet to the summit. But Dorian’s folded arms and, dare he say, _worried_ expression won out. He began his descent with his bottom lip protruding in a mock-pout for the waiting mage.

  
“Messere Pavus, you worry far too much. You’ll give yourself undue wrinkles.” Leo laughed, arms spread wide to maintain balance and navigated past another branch.

  
“The only way I’ll get undue wrinkles, _Ser_ -“ Dorian began petulantly, when Leo’s foot caught a branch, forcing him to lose his balance and topple over. Before he really even had time to fear, he saw Dorian rush into view. Two warm arms slowed, then broke his fall as they dragged his floundering body close. Without thinking, his own arms grappled for stability by wrapping around Dorian’s neck. His legs struck the ground, not as hard as he thought, and they both grunted from the result of their bodies meeting and Leo knew he was going to feel the ache of the fall tomorrow. But for now, his body was plastered to Dorian’s, their arms about one another, and they were both panting from exertion. Leo pulled his head back to look Dorian in the face.

  
“As I was saying,” Dorian said softly, his grip tightening around Leo’s midsection. “The only way I’ll get undue wrinkles is from worrying about _you_.”

  
“Dorian…” he whispered, his hands threading through the mage’s hair as their lips drifted ever closer.

  
“Inquisitor!” Blackwall bellowed from somewhere above them on the hill. Dorian sighed, touching his forehead to Leo’s briefly before they separated, straightening their clothes and hair a healthy distance from one another. Moments later, Blackwall appeared on the hill above them.

  
“Found them, Bull!” the elder man carefully climbed down to meet them, eying them quizzically. Bull followed less elegantly. “It’s been over an hour…”

  
“Yeah, Boss. You two weren’t playing a game of ‘slap the sau-‘”

  
“My apologies,” Leo interrupted, his face growing warm again. “I was just-“

  
“The Inquisitor and I were wrapped up in a discussion about ‘leaps of faith,’” Dorian said stoically, sniffing a bit. “I’m a gentleman, Bull. How dare you suggest otherwise.”

  
Bull guffawed, this time pairing off with Dorian on their return to camp. Blackwall allowed the raucous pair to walk ahead as he fell in beside the Inquisitor. And if Blackwall noticed the scuffs on his trousers, the way his shirt was partially pulled from his belt, or the lingering blush on the Inquisitor’s face…well, he was more than happy not to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> I choose to believe that "slap the sausage" is an appropriate euphemism. Hope you do too XD  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
